


Gold Panning

by d__T



Series: Indigo North [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Dead Glory Roaders, Masturbation, mutilating the dead, not particularly graphic tho???, period inaccurate numbers of piercings, picking over corpses, pretty unsafe self piercing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 13:02:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5667010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d__T/pseuds/d__T
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Indigo scavenges some dead Glory Roaders and then plays in a river.</p><p>First chapter is mutilating the dead for profit, second is Indigo getting putting metal in himself & having a wank.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Disturb the Dead

Indigo’s not the first to this crash and burn. The asphalt is blackened with tarry soot and burned rubber. Some from the previous night’s matches, some from the resulting fires, some from the bull faced trucks that push the juddering wrecks out of the way in the dawn.

The wrecks have been moved and picked over, and the bodies disturbed. A star-silver glint on a body spilled across a crumpled hood catches his eye before he turns away to find a new place to scavenge. It’s not the steel bone of the Glory Roader armor, that has been picked over already, but metal through the boy’s lip and ear.

Indigo crows with victory! The previous vultures were careless.

Indigo fetches a bowl from his ute, and cuts the boy’s jewelry from his body. Soot and char and sluggish blood stain his fingers and the sharp point of his knife. It is not a delicate procedure; some pieces tink into the bowl with the clear sound of metal and bone on ceramic, and others make a soft sound as the flesh clinging to the jewelry mutes it.

Crouched on a rumpled hood and whistling a faint tune to himself, bowl clutched in one hand and knife in the other, he surveys the wrecks again. It doesn’t look as if many made it out alive and just about every vehicle has a corpse in it. There are even some between vehicles. Perhaps the instinct of survival kicked away the carefully cultivated fatal nihilism that the Glory Roaders wear like a shroud. He moves among them with bloody fingers and slowly filling bowl like the last aspect of Death to visit them before the animals come.

It’s a good haul, fifteen or twenty pieces freed and gory in the bottom of the bowl. He shakes it and laughs. He dumps in just enough water to cover the jewelry into the bowl so the crust doesn’t dry. He rinses his hands in that water too, turning it dark with soot from moving the bodies.

Time to head for the river.


	2. Bath Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indigo plays in the river, shoves metal in his body, and has a wank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is how you get tetanus and a nasty infection in one shot, kids. Get your metal put in professionally.

The thin ceramic of the bowl keeps it afloat in the river, even with the scattering of jewelry and the sliver of soap resting in the bottom of it. It’s the last thing into the river; everything from the seat blanket to his clothing is strewn across the ute to dry. Some of the blankets took a bit of thrashing to soak, but the bowl is easy. It bobs against his belly in the current as he cleans the last remnants of the Glory Roaders from the bits of metal.

The bowl of water and metal alternately reflects the sun, the sky, and his reflection as it floats. It’s detail work now, and the blinding flashes of sunlight hinder him as much as his reflection intrigues him now. He drains the the stained water, never letting the jewelry reach his fingers, and then lets some clean water filter in again.

Now it will clearly hold his reflection. He stares into it, then slowly dips his fingers through his face and plucks a bar from the assortment. Water slides off it, clean now, and he holds it up to his face. His reflection doesn’t look quite right with it, no matter where he holds it. But there’s a gold twist among the silver and steel pieces, so delicate it flexes between his fingers.

A shot of _yes_ and arousal goes through him when he holds it to his ear. This one. Definitely this one.

The gold isn’t sharp enough to press through, and the other jewelry is too blunt. There’s a sewing needle in his pack, though, and he trades the rest of the jewelry for the needle when he goes ashore for it.

Back in the river, he captures the floating bowl against his body to use as a mirror again. The needle is steel and gold and eager in his fingers. He presses the point against his lobe to mark, and then breathes in.

He’s cut enough flesh to know exactly how hard he needs to push to get the needle through.

And breathes out. It felt like the eye of the needle was going to stab into his fingertip, and suddenly he’s panting and hot. Fingers wet from the river, he can’t tell if it’s bleeding when he touches the stinging pain, and only a single drop on his fingers is a little pink.

The gold twist is its own spring and closure. He unhooks it and holds it to his ear, only to find that he can’t pull the needle and push the twist at the same time. He drops it back in the bowl, disrupting his mirror. Slowly he pushes the eye of the needle until it’s buried in his skin.

Then it bleeds. Through the eye and mixing with water still dripping from his shaggy hair. He pulls a little more and the hole closes behind the needle. The end of the twist, the delicate wire of it catches in the hole and carefully he works it through by chasing the needle.

He hooks it shut.

It looks _good_. He looks at it and laughs and tugs on it. It sears, the ghost of it following him as he wades to shore. Freed of the water, he discovers his cock stiff against his leg. The bowl with the needle goes safely up on the bank, and then he strokes himself idly. He’ll have to leave soon, it doesn’t do to stay still like this.

He tosses himself back in with a splash and a shout. The water stings his new piercing but he pays it no mind as he scrubs himself down. Until he reaches his cock again, still a little firm. He passes his hand over and around it, soap-water slick and again. Not really paying attention to it except for the casual pleasure of it until the metal in his ear flares again.

Then he’s grabbing and tugging, suddenly urgent. He tries to float on his back and sorta succeeds with one hand around his cock and the forefinger of the other through the gold loop. Just to play with it, just to play. He moans and gets water in his mouth, coughs and spits.

In quick flashes, he thinks of Nomad yanking the loop out with curses and insults, and of closing a ring through Nomad’s lip and pulling until it bleeds freely. Water splashes around his hand, he blanks his mind for a moment and focuses on the pure ache in his ear and pleasuring himself.

It’d be laughable, how quickly he comes. But he doesn’t care, it’s just him and he strokes himself through it until it makes him flinch.

He floats for a moment, and then sluices himself off. He feels _good_.


End file.
